Antizionist Abecedarian

Sam Sax


after you've finished 
building your missiles & after your borders  
collapse under the weight of their own split   
every worm in this
fertile & cursed
ground will be its own country. 
home never was a place in dirt or even
inside the skin but rather 
just exists in language. let me explain. my people 
kiss books as a form of prayer. if dropped we 
lift them to our lips & 
mouth an honest & uncomplicated apology—
nowhere on earth belongs to us.
once a man welcomed me home as i entered the old city so i
pulled out a book of poems to show him my papers—my  
queer city of paper—my people's ink 
running through my blood. 
settlers believe land can be possessed—
they carve their names into firearms &
use this to impersonate the dead—we are
visitors here on earth. 
who but men blame the angels for the wild 
exceptionalism of men?
yesterday a bird flew through an airport & i watched that border
zone collapse under its basic wings.